Imagine an unbelievable sandwich sent to us from Heaven by St. Michael himself, a sandwich so mind-blowingly good that it’s dripping with tuna and anchovy happiness that makes your mouth simultaneously water and explode the moment you bite into it!
Such a sandwich was what I was hoping for . . . but sadly, this sandwich is not it:
The sandwich is called a Pan Bagnat – that doesn’t sound French, so my guess is that it could be a vestige of the Nicois dialect or even Langue d’Oc that is still occasionally spoken in the south of France.
I even tried eating it next to a French police cruiser to see if that would enhance the effect, but sadly the sandwich was not what I had hoped.